death and the maiden
by hiyoris-scarf
Summary: hades & persephone au. "my grandmother calls me a sleepwalker," she said. "she says someday I'm going to be so caught up in a distraction that the evil gods under the earth will come snatch me away."
1. forest

**I'm publishing the first part of this as an au entry for yatori week. anticipated length will be four or five chapters!**

* * *

Something about the air told her this spring would be an early one.

"So…why aren't you waking up yet?"

She crouched, cupping the tulips' heavy heads between her hands, trying to coax their tightly clasped petals apart through sheer force of will. The flowers trembled, tugging up through the dirt toward her.

Hiyori lowered her forehead to the soft point of the tallest tulip bud, closing her eyes. She felt the little plant trying to shake off its dream of winter.

 _It's time to grow._

"Hello…?"

Hiyori jumped and the tulips sprang, shivering, away from her fingers. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she tumbled backward to land in a clump of something prickly. She sprang up at once, frantically brushing her rear to dislodge the short spikes of winter thorns.

"Ow, ow, _ow_!"

Hiyori gave the thorns a reproachful look. They seemed to shrink into themselves, and her frown collapsed.

"It's all right, I know you didn't mean it," she said begrudgingly, still wounded from the sting in her backside.

"Uh…h-hello?" the voice repeated.

Hiyori spun towards its owner, who was standing just a few yards in front of her.

"I'm not…interrupting?" he asked, casting his bewildered gaze between her and the thorns.

Hiyori couldn't respond at first. She felt like she should already know his name.

It was a boy about her age, with salt-pale skin and dark, messy hair tied in a short ponytail. He wore a stone-gray cloak that enshrouded his whole body and was long enough to brush the grass beneath it. One thin hand protruded from the cloak, clutching the fabric close around him as though it were midwinter. Shadows crowded in the hollows under his eyes and beneath his lean cheekbones.

Overall, he was a starkly monochrome presence in the middle of the blossoming forest—except for his eyes, which were a strong, unsettling blue.

But most importantly, he didn't give Hiyori a strong impression of good health. It was her first instinct to correct that.

"Hello!" she said brightly. "It's fine! You just…surprised me."

The boy's lips tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No, it's all right—"

Hiyori hastily reached out a reassuring hand, only for him to take a step away from her. She withdrew her hand, trying not to feel hurt.

"It's easy to sneak up on me," she said, after an uncomfortable pause. "Or, so I'm told."

One corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"And who tells you that?"

Hiyori's cheeks grew hot.

"Almost everyone. They tease me that the mountain could explode under my feet and I wouldn't notice." She gave a guilty grin.

"My grandmother calls me a sleepwalker. She says someday I'm going to be so caught up in a distraction that the evil gods under the earth will come snatch me away."

His expression—which had almost been a smile—changed completely. The softness melted from it, leaving behind hard, harrowed features that made him look a century older.

"Really?" he asked.

He sounded so tired—so unfathomably fatigued that Hiyori nearly wanted to cry for him.

"They're not real stories," she said kindly. "She only tells me that to frighten me. I know none of it is true."

He smiled again, but it was an exhausted shadow of the real thing. With every passing second Hiyori grew more convinced she had made some sort of irredeemable error. Her gaze fell to the grass at his feet, unable to meet those fire-blue eyes.

"What—what's your name?" she asked, casting around for a subject change.

A warm breeze picked up, lifting the hair off her face. It brought with it a new scent: something old, and lovely, and half-forgotten. She had never smelled anything like it—not in any springtime as far back as she could remember.

"I think you might know it already," he said, inexplicably sad.

Hiyori closed her eyes and breathed in, deeply. When she opened them again, she was alone.

: : :

"I met someone today," Hiyori said.

Grandmother looked up from behind her long desk, and her eyes narrowed.

Inari was frightening. Even Hiyori—who loved her more than heaven and earth—knew her grandmother possessed terrible power that she chose not to wield. And, although she did not associate the white-haired, golden-skinned woman behind the desk with anything but warmth and life, others would whisper to her that her grandmother was the _real_ ruler of the heavens. That she could take the throne in an afternoon, and no one would have the power stop her.

Outside the whispers, nothing of that nature was hinted at. And so the wheat grew.

Grandmother sat behind her desk, looking at Hiyori with narrow, fire-colored eyes.

"Oh?" She said. "Who?"

"I…don't know his name," Hiyori admitted. She really should have asked.

" _His_?"

"He seemed nice!" Hiyori said, trying to forestall suspicion. "And…he could _see_ me."

"Not a human, then," Grandmother muttered, her fingers dancing a nervous rhythm against the desk's warm wood.

Hiyori cleared her throat. "I was just wondering if, maybe—"

"You didn't know who he was?" Grandmother interrupted. She pushed herself back from the desk and stood. Even from across the room, she seemed to tower over Hiyori.

"No, I didn't," Hiyori said. She tasted unease in the back of her throat. "He was kind of, um, pale, and strange-looking."

She paused.

"And he had these blue eyes."

: : :

Hiyori and her grandmother were called to the throne room the next day. Evidently, news of Hiyori's new acquaintance had not been limited to just the two of them.

He was waiting.

As soon as they walked in, Hiyori saw him. A young man dangled his legs over the side of the tall throne at the top of the room. With every step she took toward him, his bare heel hit the side, and she felt the rhythm through her sandals.

Suddenly, his heels stopped hitting the side of the throne. Grandmother stopped walking, Hiyori beside her.

"Hello, Fujisaki," Grandmother said.

"It's been quite a while since you visited, Inari," said Fujisaki. He swung himself around in the throne so he was sitting properly, and showed a smile that bared all his teeth.

"I have had no reason," said Grandmother. He pouted.

"A shame that our only chance to catch up is like this," he said. He released such a powerful sigh that Hiyori thought she felt the wind of it on her face. Grandmother's expression remained stoic.

"You are right," she said. "It is."

Fujisaki's smile widened, somehow showing impossibly more teeth. The hair on Hiyori's neck stood up.

"Do you know what else is a shame?" he asked. He spoke to her grandmother, but his eyes focused on Hiyori.

"That such a sweet"—he rose from the throne—"innocent…"—descended the three steps, bare feet padding—"charming, little goddess…"

He walked right up to her, and his voice dropped into a hiss.

"…Should have to encounter something like _that_."

Fujisaki stroked her chin with a thumb, holding her gaze. His eyes were flat as granite, and just as hard. As his thumb traced her jawline, Hiyori's flesh crept up her arms.

There was a tingle of light, a burning smell, and Fujisaki's hand dropped.

He chuckled. "No need for that, Inari."

"Then kindly arrive at your point, if you have one," Grandmother said through her teeth. Hiyori could feel the murderous heat radiating off her body.

"As much as it is a shame, fraternizing with the fallen is high treason," Fujisaki said. The corners of his lips tugged down, as though it gave him no deeper pain than to make such an admission.

"I didn't really 'fraternize'," Hiyori said, speaking up for the first time. The silence after her words crackled like a storm, and she swallowed.

"We just…talked a bit. I don't know him. I never found out his name. Why is this important?"

Fujisaki turned back to her, and his face twisted with something Hiyori wasn't sure she wanted to understand.

"His name?" he jeered softly. "That's the easy answer, little Hiyori. That person is named _Yaboku_."

Her teeth shivered with the echo of it.

Yaboku, the demon king of the underworld. He was a fallen god with a voice like earthquakes, who lived only in children's nightmares. He would take their ears as trophies if they did not stay obediently in bed.

Yaboku was not a pale, hungry-eyed boy who smelled like memories.

"You're lying," said Hiyori. "That's just a story."

The room rang with her incautious words. At her side, Grandmother stiffened, and the other gods kept merciless silence.

Finally, Fujisaki laughed.

"You're more fun than I had hoped for," he said between giggles. "Still…"

He tapped one long finger against his bottom lip.

"I do not lie very often, little Hiyori."

: : :

She was sent away from the mountain, wrapped in a dark mantle that would obscure her from the eyes of any searching gods.

"Hide in the dark," Grandmother said. "Try not to miss the daylight too much."

She cupped Hiyori's chin, quickly pressing her lips to her forehead. "Quickly. Leave."

She slid down the steepness below the clouds, into the trees at the foot of the high mountain. The familiar forest wore a warped cloak of nighttime that set her teeth on edge. Freckles of moonlight found their way through an overhang of late winter clouds, and Hiyori tried not to imagine the light reflecting off invisible eyes. Behind her, she thought the clatter of dislodged rocks were the feet of pursuers.

 _High treason, for speaking to a stranger._

Hiyori had unknowingly dredged up a taboo topic that Fujisaki—and therefore Heaven itself—no longer wished to acknowledge.

They would kill her, Grandmother had said. And by killing her they would ensure silence, forever.

Hiyori grit her teeth, drawing the mantle tight around her shoulders. _Not so easy._

But in the deeper forest, every step was a gamble. Hiyori's progress was obscenely loud as she crashed her blind way through the low branches, nothing but luck guiding her. For all she knew, she could be retracing her steps back to the mountain.

Inevitably, she tripped over an exposed root. Her forehead connected hard with the tree trunk it belonged to, and her vision erupted in stars. She cursed, lost her balance, and fell.

Once she crashed to the ground, she heard something—a noise not caused by her own racket.

A little ways off to her left, a single set of footsteps staggered to a halt.

Hiyori's heart stopped entirely—then it took off again like a spooked horse. She sucked her lips between her teeth, her head and chest pounding.

The footsteps did not resume, but Hiyori felt the presence of someone else near her. She took a shallow, gulping breath. Tears of pain and panic sprang to the corners of her eyes.

Then, suddenly, a light flickered awake in the blackness. It was a cold light, bluer than snow. Hiyori winced away from the brightness, cringing into the undergrowth.

As her pupils adjusted to it, she saw the light was actually a lamp, held by an arm.

As the arm drew nearer, Hiyori scrambled backward. "Are you all right?" its owner asked.

A short, surprised laugh burst from her lungs, quickly followed by a sob.

"No!" she gasped.

The person who held the lantern hesitated before answering. When he did, he sounded distinctly uncomfortable.

"Um," he said. "I'm sorry. I…would you…?" He cleared his throat. "Do you need some…help?"

Hiyori stumbled to her feet, pulling the hood of the useless mantle around her face.

"No," she said roughly. "I do not need any help."

"Your head," the voice said. The lantern drew closer, and before she could move away, Hiyori was looking into the face of the person carrying it.

Blue reflected blue.

"Oh…" she breathed. _"You."_

His eyebrows bunched together.

"You remember me?" he asked.

"You," Hiyori repeated. "I'm going to be killed because of you."

He winced.

"Ah. Yes. Sorry."

Hiyori's mouth opened and shut a few times. There were a long, long list of questions she could start asking, but she settled on:

"How did you see me?"

He nodded once at the blue lantern.

"A Diogenes lantern," he said. "It dispels darkness only to the bearer. It also let me see past _that_ tricky thing." He tilted his head toward her, and Hiyori realized he meant her mantle.

"Oh," she said. "So…you were following me?"

His eyes widened.

"I distracted the ones chasing you," he retorted. Hiyori didn't imagine the faint tinge of pink creeping along his chalk-white cheeks.

"Why?" she demanded. "You don't even know me!"

He gave a tremendous frown, lowering the lantern a bit.

"You could just say 'thank you'," he muttered.

"And I don't know you at all!" Hiyori continued, her voice gaining in volume. "But now because of you I'm suddenly accused of _treason_ —and now here you are with some dogwood lantern—"

"—Diogenes—"

"—offering to _help_ me, when you're supposed to be some sort of horrible monster that steals ears—and then I hit my head on that poor tree, so you can understand why I'm a—a bit—" Hiyori stuttered to a halt, gasping deeply.

He didn't respond, but simply looked at her, waiting for her to catch her breath again.

"You're not really bad," she asked in a fragile voice. "Are you?"

Behind the lantern, his eyes dropped.

"I like to think not."

Hiyori stared at him for a moment: at the shy, downcast look on his face, at the blush of embarrassment just beginning to fade, at the softness that lurked around the corners of his frown.

She decided Fujisaki was wrong.


	2. deep

After Hiyori outlined the basics, he stood there for a while without saying anything, and she began to worry. It was a relatively simple plan. She wasn't sure where he could have gotten lost.

"I'm…"

Yato trailed off to pause for a long, _long_ second.

"…Confused."

Hiyori let out a slow breath through her mouth.

"You _are_ Yaboku, aren't you?"

He flinched.

"Technically."

"Technically?"

His eyes flashed to hers, then darted away. He seemed unable to make eye contact for longer than a few seconds.

"I prefer to be called Yato," he said quietly. "—If that's all right."

Hiyori's eyebrows rose. A nickname didn't seem appropriate for the serious god of the underworld.

But she _did_ need him as an ally.

"Of course," she said with a smile. "Yato."

He smiled back at her. The shift in expression transformed his face into something a little breathtaking.

"Wh-what I mean is," she stumbled. Her face was turning sunrise pink.

"If—if I go with you down to the underworld, and I can prove you're not—you know." She swallowed uncomfortably.

"Then all the other gods might stop listening to Fujisaki."

She looked at him hopefully, but Yato's smile had flattened again.

"You haven't thought this through at all, have you?"

Hiyori bristled. "I _have._ "

"First, you have no concrete reason to believe I'm not actually an ear-stealing demon god."

Yato began to tick off on his fingers with his free hand.

"Second, you're assuming once Fujisaki knows you're in the underworld, I can protect you from him. And third, the testimony of one little girl isn't going to have much effect against the superstition and prejudice of Heaven."

Hiyori's face flushed a deeper pink.

"I'm not stupid," she threw at him. "I know it's risky. But it's either this or wandering among the humans for as long as I can manage. It must be wonderful for you down in your nice, private little kingdom where you don't have to be around anyone else. It has to be inconvenient to have 'little girls' like me asking for your help."

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing, and Yato's hard expression faltered.

"As far as I can see, I have three options," Hiyori said. Her voice was low, and fearful.

"I could go back to Heaven and die. I could stay in the human world and wander until I'm forgotten and fade away. Or, I could ask for help—from someone who might actually listen."

She stopped. She held Yato's gaze for another second, then dropped her own. But not before she saw a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

After a few taut seconds, he sighed, and his chin dropped.

"You're sure about this?" he asked.

Hiyori gave a tight nod.

She had never been less sure about anything.

"Then…let's go."

In a silent, fluid motion, Yato raised his right arm out straight at shoulder-height. The trees around them whispered uneasily, and the hair on Hiyori's neck stood up.

"What are y—" she said, but he brought his arm down again. When he did, the ground loosened and crumbled beneath her, and she fell.

: : :

Hiyori woke up to brightness.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging with the sharp radiance of the surrounding light. She squeezed them shut again. Her ears felt like someone had stuffed grass into them.

"Hiyori?" someone said from far away. She shook her head, working her jaw to ease the ache in her ears.

"Ow," she said. The light stabbed through her eyelids. " _Ow_."

The faraway voice said something else she couldn't understand, and the brilliance around her muted to something closer to bearable.

"Hiyori, are you all right?"

She opened her eyes, blinking away moisture until the world came into focus again. Yato's face hovered above her, his expression horrified.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, I forgot all about the air pressure and oxygen. It's just—no one besides me ever comes here, and I'm used to it by now, and—"

"It's okay," Hiyori interrupted. "I'm fine now."

She did feel better, once the pressure in her inner ears reached equilibrium. She shifted her shoulders, and found she was lying on a hard, uneven surface. An arm— _Yato's_ arm—was under her shoulders, lifting her.

Hiyori's ears suddenly erupted in ringing. Her body stiffened like a board. Concerned, Yato pulled her closer against him.

"You're really fine?" he asked. She barely heard him.

He smelled so marvelous. It was the same smell as before, but near, and strong, and exciting, and it woke a chaotic little voice in her that _wanted_.

"Are we here?" Hiyori asked stupidly. She blinked hard, leaning away from him so she wouldn't accidentally do something impolite.

Yato raised his eyebrows, but helped her sit up straight.

"Yes," he said.

Hiyori got to her feet, intensely aware of Yato's hand cupping her elbow to keep her steady. She looked around for the source of the light, which was evenly diffused and still painfully bright.

"What is…this place?" she asked. Her voice had a strange, confined resonance that made her feel like she was speaking much louder than necessary.

Yato glanced at her in bewilderment, but when he saw her awestruck expression, he understood.

Again, he almost smiled.

"This is the diamond gate."

Hiyori's eyes widened. She stared around, squinting against the light, and finally realized the dazzling space they were in was actually a colossal, domed chamber that rivaled the Heavenly throne room in size. She still didn't understand why it was so bright.

Then her eyes fully adjusted.

"Oh," she choked.

She was among stars: a hundred billion of them in an underground galaxy. Every inch of the curving walls was stuffed with diamonds—winking and dazzling and glinting in hundreds of fiery colors.

"The diamond gate," she repeated in disbelief.

Yato let go of her elbow and began walking toward the far wall, his sandals crunching over the gems. Hiyori followed, at first trying to avoid stepping on the priceless carpet beneath her feet, but abandoning her efforts once she realized how long it would take her to dance across the sparkling floor. She trotted to keep up, and saw they were headed toward a narrow, dark archway where the diamond wall curved to meet the floor.

When they reached it, Yato paused, and Hiyori stopped next to him. A low rumble emanated from the archway, raising the hairs along her arms.

"What's in there?" she asked.

"Something that prefers to be left alone," Yato said.

Hiyori cast him a sideways glance, but his mouth was shut as tight as a trap.

"Stay on this side of me," he said, and he led her into the darkness.

The rumbling grew louder. With it came a soft whistling that reminded Hiyori of wind through a cracked doorway. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness as they walked.

The dark tunnel expanded, opening into another large chamber. Out of multiple archways in the stone wall gurgled wide, inky rivers, each flowing silently through the middle of the room and out again through different archways. The air in this place was cool and restless, and it whispered through Hiyori's hair like voices. Without meaning to, she edged closer to Yato.

"The room of rivers," he said, before she could ask.

He led her away from the silent, flowing water and along a narrow path against the wall. The path began to widen as they walked, and the low rumbling was growing louder still. In the shadows in front of her, Hiyori saw a huge, pitch-colored mass huddled against the wall.

Suddenly, the rumbling stopped. So did Yato.

Then there was that mysterious whistling noise again. The hair on Hiyori's face flew back as an enormous gust of rank air blew past them. The black mass stirred, another thunderous snore beginning deep in its throat.

"Yato," Hiyori whispered. "Is that—"

"Shh!" His hand flew out, cutting her off.

The rumbling faltered. Stopped. Hiyori held her breath, long enough to go lightheaded.

Then the rumbling started up again, fouler and noisier than before, and her knees nearly weakened in relief.

Yato's plan was obviously to sneak her past the beast without waking it up. They tiptoed closer, Hiyori hugging the wall while Yato kept himself carefully angled between her and the sleeping monster. They edged their way along, until quite suddenly, Hiyori saw a low, gated passage looming before them that had previously been invisible in the soft light.

The creature's snores rumbled through the ground, traveling under Hiyori's feet and making the hinges of the gate chatter like teeth. Yato moved past her, reaching his hand out to touch one of the bars. As soon as his hand made contact, chains began to retract from the gate, snaking from between the bars with a muted clinking. Hiyori cast a nervous glance over her shoulder at the snoring animal.

"Ah—not _now_ ," Yato muttered desperately. Hiyori turned back to him. The chains were still unslinking from the gate, but beyond it, in the darkness of the passage, a light was growing.

"What's that?" she whispered. Yato just shook his head, wiping a bead of sweat off his temple as he gave the gate a small shake. Hiyori peered at the light through the gate. As it grew, she could see it swinging, bobbing along in the darkness as its invisible carrier moved toward them.

And then:

" _YATO!"_

Hiyori cringed away from the enraged shout, stumbling back a step before Yato caught her by the arm. She squinted at the light, trying to make out a figure next to it. The lantern flickered a cheerful butter yellow—very different from the eerie blue of the Diogenes lantern Yato had carried. The person carrying it was short, but still moved quickly toward them.

"Yukine," Yato hissed through his teeth. "Let me _in_."

The lantern-carrier walked right up to the gate and raised the light. His face was illuminated by the glow of it, and Hiyori saw round, young cheeks, large honey-gold eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles. The righteous fury blazing from his face made her sincerely grateful it did not seem to be directed at her.

Yato met the boy with a baleful glare through the gate, but he didn't back down. After a few moments of profoundly uncomfortable silence, Yukine exploded:

"If you like wandering around upstairs so much, then why don't you just _stay_ there?" he spat at Yato.

"I was ju—" Yato began.

"After all, who wants to be stuck here with all the _dead people?!"_ Yukine bellowed. Yato shot something back at him in a low, angry voice—but Hiyori didn't hear it. The rumbling under her feet had stopped.

Which meant the beast behind them was no longer snoring.

"You know what? It's fine," Yukine said. His voice was quieter, but his eyebrows twitched and his lip had a nasty curl. "I understand. Why bother to do your work when you can just leave it all to us? It's not like _I've_ got hobbies."

Yato was audibly grinding his teeth together. He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, meeting Hiyori's eyes as he did.

"Yukine," he growled. "Let us in. Now."

Yukine's mouth opened, then shut.

"Us?" he whispered. Slowly, his eyes traveled over to Hiyori. She waved.

"Hello!"

: : :

Once Yukine opened the gate for them, and they had—however temporarily—forestalled gruesome death at the mercy of a terrible shadow-creature, they had walked down the passageway until it spilled them onto the lip of a cliff.

And beyond the cliff was a universe.

The domed ceiling disappeared above Hiyori's head into an abyss of velvety black, a patchwork of frozen constellations staring down from the distant ceiling. These unfamiliar stars winked at her from a maze of galactic eddies so far above her head that it dizzied her.

She looked down again, past the lip of the cliff, and the dizziness did not fade.

The space of the cavern was almost incomprehensible. Hiyori realized instantly that the mountain of the gods could fit easily inside it. Twice.

The cavern floor stretched beyond sight, and was divided into distinct regions by wide black rivers that poured endlessly from the walls. Hiyori looked down at the nearest region, which was the size of an entire city in itself. Beautiful houses clustered around bright gardens, and Hiyori could see orchards, vineyards, lakes and waterfalls that sparkled sapphire blue despite the absence of sky.

"What…" she breathed. "Is _that_?"

Yukine leaned recklessly over the cliff to see what she was referring to.

"Elysium," he said in a casual tone.

"Oh," she responded in a numb whisper.

The three of them began to walk along the cliffside. Yukine took the lead, casting a suspicious glance at Hiyori before putting as much space between himself and her as possible. Yato stayed on her left side. He did not speak to her.

"It's big," Hiyori said, still reeling from the view of the clifftop.

"Yes," Yato answered.

She paused before making her next observation.

"And it's…full of…?"

"The dead, yes."

Hiyori winced at the note of defensiveness in his voice, and glanced over at him. Yato's mouth was locked shut again, and he stared straight ahead as he walked. He wasn't outpacing her, though. He obviously wanted to stay nearby, but talking to her was not in the cards.

"He said something about you wandering around 'upstairs'," she said, hesitantly. "Does he mean…outside?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Yato's whole body seemed to tense.

"Yes."

"Are you not supposed to be 'upstairs'?"

Yato's pace quickened.

"Do you get tired of asking intrusive questions?" he snapped. His voice was so completely bereft of the bashful consideration she had almost come to expect from him, that Hiyori knew she must have hit a nerve. Her throat suddenly felt like it had closed off.

"I'm not—I was just—"

As quickly as Yato had sped up, he stopped again, and Hiyori nearly slammed into his back. He turned on her, eyes blazing, and she gasped aloud at the sensation of being submerged in icy water.

"I thought you learned the kind of trouble curiosity can land you in," he said.

And then he turned around and kept walking. This time, he didn't wait for her.

It occurred to Hiyori that he might be like one of the stars on the cavern ceiling: cold, and secretive, and sorely out of reach.


	3. roots

Hiyori tried to relax in her new habitation, which was more difficult than it should have been, as most of it was covered in gold. However, the chair she sat in was draped in gray silk, and soft enough to float in. She lay her head against the back of it, closing her eyes.

The huge rush of adrenaline from her escape was starting to wear off. She let herself sink wearily into the chair—too tired to open her eyes again, too tired to shed tears for the life and home she had been forced to abandon.

As she sat there, overcome with exhaustion, it occurred to her that the underworld had not been what she expected. Parts of it had even been beautiful, though it wasn't a beauty she was familiar or comfortable with.

Hiyori sat there, curled into her strange silk chair for what could have either been a few minutes or several hours. Then a knock came at her door.

She didn't have to open it, because the person who had knocked immediately poked her head inside. It was a rather strange head—one covered in pink curls, with an impish, catlike face that suggested its owner should never be left unattended near fragile objects.

"H-hello?" Hiyori said. She started to get out of the chair, but the intruder bounced into her room with a delighted shriek.

"No, no, no, no no no, don't get up just for me!" the pink-haired person squealed. "I just came to see if it was true!"

Hiyori sank back down.

"If what?" she asked, thoroughly perplexed.

The intruder gave an insolent wink, a dirty grin playing hide-and-seek on her lips. "If the boss really did kidnap a pretty girl from upstairs, and bring her down into his lair for his own _evil_ purposes."

The stranger ignored the raging blush that surged into Hiyori's cheeks, and perched on the arm of her chair like an exceptionally large kitten.

"He didn't—wait— _kidnap_?" Hiyori sputtered, wondering exactly how fast gossip spread in the underworld.

"I'm Kofuku," the stranger said, thrusting a tiny hand toward Hiyori. "Fate of the Damned. It's nice to meet you."

Hiyori gave Kofuku's hand a tentative shake.

"Hiyori," she offered. "Fate of the…Damned?"

Even as the words left her mouth, she wondered if she really wanted to know the answer. Kofuku leaped off the arm of the chair and crashed to her knees at Hiyori's feet. She settled her elbows across her lap, staring up at her with a wide, unnerving smile.

"I want to be _friends_ with you, Hiyori," she said. "So let's not talk about my work, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

"Let's talk about you instead!"

With that, Kofuku bounced upright again. She seemed incapable of remaining still for five consecutive seconds.

"What do you want to know about me?" Hiyori asked.

"Everything!" Kofuku chirped, proceeding to tick them off on her fingers. "Your best friend, favorite color, favorite animal, greatest fear, guilty pleasure, favorite food—"

She cut herself off suddenly, putting her thumb to her lip.

"Hmm. Maybe not that last one."

Hiyori felt a return of the dizziness she had experienced while standing on the edge of the cliff. Kofuku's questions clamored against the inside of her skull like so many hummingbirds. At last, she took a deep breath and said:

"I think…the first thing you should really know about me is that I'm supposed to be dead."

Kofuku's gaze locked on Hiyori again. This time, her eyes weren't mischievous. They were unfathomable.

"Silly Hiyori," she said quietly. "I already knew _that_."

: : :

Without the rhythm of daylight and dusk, Hiyori quickly lost track of how long she had spent in the underworld. After silently escorting her to her new home, Yato had disappeared, and for the last two days (or what she assumed to be two days), she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. She didn't know where to find him, and after their last interaction, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

She had not been offered any hospitality beyond the provision of a room. In fact, Kofuku had, in the strictest manner she was capable of, instructed her not to eat anything. Hiyori's interest was piqued.

"Do none of you eat?" she asked. No god nor spirit needed physical sustenance, but it was highly uncommon for any to abstain entirely. Kofuku wrinkled her nose and raised a reprimanding finger to Hiyori's lips.

"No," she said. "No, we can." She grinned hugely. "I _lo-o-ove_ eating."

Hiyori's brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to press the issue.

"You shouldn't, though," Kofuku said suddenly. Her voice was suddenly low and serious. "Please remember that."

Hiyori paused, and then nodded with equal seriousness.

But no one had told her she couldn't explore.

The palace itself was not an impressive structure: a series of vaulted, interlocking chambers built into the lofty walls of the underworld itself. Hiyori's room was near the front, close enough to the opening archway for her to see the lanterns from the door. She didn't venture much farther into the palace, but she sometimes heard voices echoing within the deeper corridors. She recognized Yukine's more than once.

She often walked outside the palace, among the blue lanterns that lit the way down to the riverbank. She followed the winding, silent water along its length, noticing how its shallow ripples reflected the motionless constellations above.

She sat down, and closed her eyes, and for a moment she could imagine that the pebbled, grassless riverbank was lit by the real sun. But when she opened her eyes again, it was still a cold river, and a silent black world, and a blanket of beautiful, dead stars above her head.

: : :

She caught Yukine on one of his passes by her room.

"Hello," she said in a friendly voice, stepping out in front of him. The boy nearly jumped almost out of his sandals at her sudden appearance.

"Hello," he said suspiciously, eyeing her like she was more dangerous and unsettling than the millions of dead people who occupied the underworld. Hiyori cleared her throat.

"I was just wondering," she said, "if there were any way for me to talk to Yato."

Yukine's lips pressed together.

"I'm very busy," he said shortly.

"I know, and I really am sorry to intrude." She held her hands out in a supplicating gesture.

"We just,"—she cleared her throat softly, trying to sound persuasive. "He and I…made an agreement. And I'd like to speak to him about it. If you could help me, I would appreciate it beyond anything."

Hiyori gave him a genuine smile, and Yukine reddened to the tips of his ears.

"Fine," he squeaked. "This way."

He began marching stiffly past her through the wide corridor, and Hiyori followed. Even in the dim lighting, she saw that the back of his neck was pink.

The corridor twisted and narrowed, and smaller hallways spidered off of it into complete blackness. Torches were set into brackets at uneven intervals along the walls, but failed to completely dispel the dark. Hiyori shivered, and trotted to keep up with Yukine. He was walking so quickly that Hiyori found herself thinking he might be trying to shake her off.

"H-how do you find your way around in this place?" she asked when she caught up to him, huffing a bit.

"It's easy when you've been here a while," he said shortly.

They passed under another torch, and Hiyori studied Yukine's face in the brief wash of light. His cheeks were puffed out, and he stared straight ahead with a stiff neck. She wondered if he felt ill.

"You really know how to get everywhere?" she asked him. "That's kind of amazing."

Yukine's eyes flicked over to her in surprise, and Hiyori gave him a kind smile in return. His ears darkened from rose pink to a deep, brilliant plum.

"Not—not really," he muttered, and ducked his head.

Just as Hiyori was about to ask Yukine how far exactly they were going to walk, the corridor began to widen in front of them. Beyond the final pair of torch sconces, it opened into a large, domed stone cavern. A wrought-iron lamp hung from the ceiling, casting living, flickering shadows along the stone walls. A rough bench was carved into the wall of the cavern, curving around the whole room. On the opposite side of the chamber from where the corridor ended, Hiyori saw a pair of enormous, elaborately carved stone doors.

"Are we…here?" she asked hesitantly.

Yukine gave a curt nod. "Can you wait a moment?" he asked, gesturing to the bench. Hiyori sat down, and watched Yukine cross the room to pull one of the doors open. He vanished inside, and the door closed behind him with a final, resonant _boom_.

As the minutes passed, Hiyori tapped her fingers on her lap. The light and shadow from the lamp danced across the wall, and her mind jumped unbidden to the celebrations of spring and harvest. Suddenly, more than anything in the whole world, she craved the feeling of grass beneath her feet. She wanted to run, not over unforgiving stone, but over the soft earth, through the whipping wheat stalks, on the banks of rivers full of flashing fish. She wanted her skin to taste sunlight.

Something cold had begun growing in her, ever since she fled to the underworld. Hiyori didn't want to think too much about what would happen if that cold ever reached her heart.

From behind the stone door, she heard raised voices.

Slowly, stealthily, Hiyori scooted across the stone bench. It curved around the wall, moving nearer to the door. She strained her ears, trying to make out the words of the conversation inside.

There were two voices. The higher one was definitely Yukine's. The other could only be—

Suddenly the doors slammed open, and Yukine stormed out, letting it slam closed behind him. Hiyori couldn't even catch a glimpse of the room behind it before she had to rush after him down the dark hallway, lest he leave her alone in the waiting chamber.

"How did it go?" she asked Yukine's back anxiously. He made an inarticulate, irritated noise, and Hiyori was suddenly reminded of an angry squirrel. Even his hair seemed to poof in agitation.

"Can I speak to him?" she tried, her hope fading quickly. Whatever had happened behind that closed door, it hadn't been friendly.

"No," Yukine said harshly. Hiyori flinched. They were walking even faster away from the throne room than they had walked toward it, and despite the fact that his legs were shorter than hers, Hiyori was practically sprinting to keep up.

"Well—what happened then?" she demanded. Yukine stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway, and Hiyori barreled into him. He turned to face her, and she reeled back, too shocked to apologize.

His eyes burned in his sharp, pale face like twin suns, and Hiyori stifled a gasp. There was no ordinary soul aflame in this strange boy.

"'What happened,' is not your business," he said. There was an authoritative ring to his voice that told her he was not just being petulant. "You are not to explore, and above all, you are _not_ to try to leave. You will receive no more explanation, and you will demand none.."

Hiyori stared at him. Everything in his face and posture had changed, making him seem taller, older. There was something already careworn about him, despite his youth.

"Is something wrong?" she ventured, hoping he wouldn't take it as prying.

Yukine's eyes wandered away from hers, looking somewhere past her head.

"There are rules you must follow to live here, Hiyori," he said. "We all must."

Then he turned, and walked onward in silence. She followed him back to her room, and then let him shut the door behind her.

: : :

There may not have been a reliable way to tell time, but Hiyori was starting to learn the rhythm of the underworld.

She was accustomed to reading the angle of the shadows, and mapping the trajectory of the sun and stars, but here there was no sun, and the stars never moved. There were only candles, and the strange, cool blue light that seemed to suffuse the entire landscape. Nevertheless, she hadn't missed the hum of energy here that ebbed and flowed with the hours, and Hiyori thought she could untangle it enough to know when night was approaching.

She was sure it had been several hours since Yukine marched her back into her room. If that had been early afternoon, it was now the time of sunset. Or something like that. She did not like her ignorance of what the hour should be, but there were more pressing matters than her timetable.

Hiyori sat on the bed, cross-legged, eyes closed, concentrating with every ounce of her focus on the branching forks of the underground hallways. _Right, left, left, middle, left, right._

Her eyes opened, and she got up from the bed. She removed her sandals and walked to the door with footfalls as quiet as feathers. She unlocked the door, and it swung silently open. Hiyori shut the door behind her and began walking, into the heart of the labyrinthine corridors that Yukine had led her down only hours previously.

The passage forked. _Right_. She walked down the righthand path, which was broader, well-lit with sconces every few feet along the stone walls. She listened for voices, and heard only the soft crackle of flames.

 _Left._ She chose the narrower path at the next fork.

 _Left._ Narrower still. She remembered nearly tripping over an unevenness in the floor as she strove to keep up with Yukine's quick steps. Her toe hit the shallow stone ledge, and it reassured her she was still going the right way.

The corridor split again, this time in three directions. Hiyori paused.

The middle passage was what she thought she remembered, but as she looked at the righthand hall, her memory began to betray her. They both looked like the correct route to take. She ground her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall it— _forcing_ the knowledge to reveal itself.

She emptied her brain, making room for the pathway to unfold itself in front of her like a ball of thread in a maze. And then, she heard voices, coming from the righthand passageway.

And they were close.

Hiyori threw herself into the middle corridor, her feet slapping heavily on the stone. The middle tunnel was quiet and dark, the uneven walls pocked with holes and nooks. Hiyori darted a few feet down the path, and then, when the voices drew near, she tucked herself behind a stony outcropping, pressing a hand over her mouth to hide her harsh, panicked breaths.

She heard a voice, magnified and echoing against the stone walls.

"…not sure anyone knows what will happen if _he_ finds out the contract was breached."

This voice was unfamiliar. A male voice. It sounded young.

"But isn't this sort of thing exactly what he would want?" said another voice. _Kofuku._

Hiyori hid a small intake of breath. For some reason, it had never occurred to her that the odd girl had business in the palace beyond sneaking into her bedroom and asking her embarrassing questions.

"You can say his name," said a third voice. _Yukine_. As usual, he sounded annoyed. "It's not like it's a curse. Besides, Yato knows Fujisaki's methods better than anyone else."

Hiyori stiffened at Fujisaki's name. The stone wall against her back felt suddenly much colder.

"But he hasn't exactly been subtle about wanting Yato dead," the first voice said uneasily. The three sets of footsteps were receding, and Hiyori had to strain her ears for the last snippets of their conversation.

"Why wouldn't he use any excuse to wage a war?"

"You don't tend to fight the dead and win," Yukine countered, and Kofuku giggled nervously. She said something else, but it was lost to the echoes and emptiness of the tunnels.

Hiyori removed her hand from her mouth, and stepped out from behind the outcropping. As far as she could tell, the hallway was empty again. She slipped out of the shadows of the middle corridor, catching a glimpse of the retreating backs of Kofuku, Yukine, and another figure she didn't recognize. Wasting no time, she darted down the path from which they had just emerged. Hurrying through its twists and switchbacks, she finally found herself in the circular waiting room where Yukine had left her earlier.

Her eyes were almost magnetically drawn to the enormous, intricate doors—which were firmly closed.

Hiyori squared her shoulders. It was hard to summon the strength of her will down here, so far away from the sunlight, from the soft and growing things that shared their vitality with her. But she would still try.

She walked to the doors. Putting one hand on each door, she pushed: at first tentatively, then, as the carvings bit her palms, she put more of her weight into it. The doors scraped against each other with the rough, ugly noise of stone against stone, but did not open. Hiyori grunted, sweated, pushed. She collapsed against the doors, her breathing coming in short, sharp bursts as her heartbeat thundered in her ears like a god's hammer. She tasted the bitterness of exertion in the back of her throat.

It was making her weak, this place. She would need to ask for help.

Hiyori closed her eyes, leaning with one shoulder against the unrelenting door. With her eyes closed, she reached above her head with her thoughts, looking for something alive.

There was something there—far, far above her. Something that grew thick and strong in the warm, sleeping dark. She felt it: a strong, living, fibrous web so far above her head, and then she began to whisper.

At first, there was nothing. For a long time, there was nothing.

Then, the smooth, domed ceiling of the room began to crawl. Something—many somethings—crept along it, twining and interlocking, searching without eyes and listening without ears. They poured through the ceiling, loosening the deep, wet soil, raining dirt and rocks that clattered against the metal of the chandelier. Around the massive door the roots gathered, eating at the rock, finding footholds in the hairline cracks of it. The roots burrowed in the hinges, forcing space to exist where there had been none before, choking and squeezing and tightening until the doors cracked tortuously away from their frame with a sullen crash.

Hiyori opened her eyes, feeling the weight of success rumble through her heels as the doors fell. She sucked in a small gasp at the sight of the thick, ropy tangle of roots she had pulled out of the ceiling. Maybe she wasn't as weak as she thought.

Pushing her way through the mass of black roots, and brushing a few of the smaller tendrils away from her face, Hiyori entered the throne room of the underworld for the first time.

The room beyond the doors was large, but not as large as she expected. She had thought the place would be at least as grand as the heavenly throne room, if not more so. As it turned out, the room looked a great deal like the rest she had already seen.

It was a long, narrow chamber, with sconces burning every few feet along the damp stone walls as they did in the tunnels. It looked almost like a temple, save for the long, plain table running lengthwise from where Hiyori stood. The table's surface was completely bare except for a few sheafs of parchment, which lay scattered across it. A few were strewn on the floor, as though someone had tossed them roughly aside. Beyond the table, at the end of the long, dim room, the floor rose in shallow steps up to a dais, where Hiyori saw a chair.

This chair was quite obviously a throne. It was big, and heavy-looking, and carved out of something that glistened like polished silver in the torchlight. The back of the chair rose almost as high as the shadowy ceiling, and Hiyori noticed it was wrought in the same elaborate designs that had covered the doors. It did not look like a very comfortable place to sit.

It was also empty.

She frowned. This was not ideal. Her grand entrance had gone completely unnoticed.

Hiyori had thought, at the very least, that Yato would be here in person so she could demand an audience. As it was, she had just used a lot of innocent, confused roots, and a lot more of her dwindling power, to break into an empty room.

She tried not to let herself feel defeated. He was in this room often, wasn't he? _This_ was where Yukine had brought her. Reason stood that if she waited here long enough, someone would arrive.

She looked around the large, uninviting room for somewhere to make herself comfortable. There were no chairs around the long table, and there was no bench, as there had been in the circular antechamber.

In fact, there was only one seat available.

Hiyori walked past the table and up the shallow stairs toward it. Her heart was beating faster than normal. It occurred to her, just in passing, that anyone who was not meant for the throne of the dead might find themselves cursed as soon as they touched it.

It also occurred to her that she couldn't very well get _more_ cursed than having to flee heaven and seek refuge among the spirits, gods, and other strange beings of the underworld.

So she sat down.

The throne was more comfortable than it looked. Despite the silver spirals and knobs covering it, the huge chair seemed to bend and soften to accommodate her body. Hiyori adjusted to it, rolling her shoulders experimentally and settling her elbows on top of the intricate armrests. When no curse immediately manifested itself, she even ventured to think she could sit here for quite a while, if necessary.

She leaned her head against the back of the throne. Her lips twitched upwards at the thought of the look on Yato's face when he walked into the room and found her sitting in his special chair.

A few minutes later, she was fast asleep.


End file.
